


A Coping Mechanism

by thedarkestdaisy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 05:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4595088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkestdaisy/pseuds/thedarkestdaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A song from Steve's past throws him into a panic attack.<br/>Lucky for him, Darcy knows exactly what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Coping Mechanism

**Author's Note:**

> Un-Beta'd

Darcy is in the common room having just finished another hot chocolate topped with some Bailey's. 

Okay, it was mostly Bailey's. 

Jarvis is currently aiding her slight depression by broadcasting her I'm Sad and I Need to Be Sad for a While playlist. A group of songs usually listened to after another crummy date, another phone call with her disappointed mother, or another night of totally not on purpose seclusion. 

On the way back to the couch she stops in her tracks and wonders if she should be having this pity party out in the open where anyone could walk in. Then shakes her head. No one of consequence is even in the tower right now. Pepper and Tony are in another state attending a charity that Tony knows nothing about but Pepper is fully aware of. Bruce is on another soul searching bender in another county. But he keeps sending her Snapchats so at least she knows he isn't dead and is eating somewhat well because most of the pictures are of landmarks and odd looking food native to the land. Thor finally came back from wonderland to give the stressed out astrophysicist a thorough banging and post-coital magic!science jargon. Clint and Nat disappeared a few weeks ago on a quinjet spouting some nonsense about loose ends in Budapest. That was a week ago and no matter how many hours she spends hacking into the S.H.I.E.L.D. private database she can't find a trace of them anywhere in the world. They have obviously gone dark and off the grid. Steve and Sam haven't been in the tower for almost a month. 

She's already binge-watched all of FRIENDS, Bob's Burgers, and Chuck (but not the Golden Girls because she wants to watch that with Steve- if he ever comes back). The enormous box of popcorn was finished last night. The bottle of wine was drank two days ago. By herself. After her mother yelled at her to move back home and to stop putting herself into dangerous situations. Which was dumb because it wasn't like she was jumping out of planes like Steve, flying around in a suit of armor like Tony, or letting herself get caught to infiltrate secret organizations like Nat. Her mother was right though, she is living in a giant bullseye for the Avengers. But as part of the Avengers Initiative she was granted access to all security platforms and protocols. So she would be pretty damn safe against anything save for a bomb. And if there were a bomb it would probably have to be strong enough to level out the entire block before it could damage this huge motherfucker. And at that point dead people don't really care if they're dead or not. As long as someone avenges them.

And she's pretty sure her friends would do that. Like, it's in their fucking job title.

Dumping the rest of the liquor in the mug (making it more like alcohol and less sugary sweet warmth) she sighs sorrowfully to herself as another song starts playing through one of the overhead speakers installed in the ceiling. This one makes her think of her mother- and honestly, could the woman not be thankful that her aimless daughter finally found a calling?! No. Apparently not, because that would mean she's too work oriented and needs to get out and meet a nice man to bring back home to meet the folks- and stay there forever raising a perfect nuclear family with a dog named Spot or Lassie! Jesus' Sweet Hippie Beard, if it wasn't one thing it was another. Darcy glares at the empty space before her as the realization that her mother is the most unsatisfied woman on the planet hits her in the face like a fourteen wheeler.

“I should stop talking to mom for a while.”

When she gets an answer from the doorway she nearly drops her mug of alcohol all over herself and the couch. 

“Don't do that. Poor woman worries about you all the time. Maybe if you visited her she would cut you some slack,” says Steve as he sweeps into the kitchenette as if he hasn't been gone for what feels like centuries. Of course it hasn't been- it just feels that way when you're so in love with someone that you worry aout them ALL THE TIME and your face cramps into a stupid smile whenever they're around. 

Does Steve even notice it? No, not at all. Because Steve is completely oblivious to all awkward and not-awkward romanticisms of the world. And also because he's convinced she's his bro (Thanks for nothing Clint and Sam, you're terrible wingmen!) and his shieldmate (Not fucking helping, Thor).

Now that she's finally in the same room with him she can't help but look over his form for injuries or signs of exhaustion. He looks the same as ever though. Clean shaven, rocking another grandpa shirt and a frown that speaks volumes about the turn out of the search for his best friend. 

“Steve,” she says with a smile. “I had no idea you were back! Or in the same state! Or building for that matter. When did you get in?” She all but throws the mug on the coffee table to come greet Steve in the kitchen as he looks in the cabinets for something to make. She tries really really really really hard not to cling to him when he leans down to hug her. But she does feel him stiffen the second the overhead song changes to an extremely golden oldie.

He steps back and the look on his face breaks her heart. It's like he's looking straight through her to some unseen memory. His blue eyes cloudy with fear and panic. He grabs at his chest, fingers clinging into his grandpa collared shirt, choking and struggling to pull in a breath. A sudden sweat breaks out on his flushed form.

“Miss Lewis, it appears that Captain Rogers is suffering from an extreme panic attack.” Jarvis says, cutting out the music. 

“No shit, dude.” She whispers mostly to herself.

“The attack began the exact moment of your song so I have taken the liberty of turning off your playlist.”

She absent-mindedly thanks the AI before focusing solely on Steve. She knows what to do. One doesn't live in a giant apartment with Tony Stark and not look up panic and anxiety attacks. She could probably write a book on how to talk someone down by now.

“Steve,” she commands his attention by holding his face and speaking softly. “Steve look at me, just focus on me, okay?” Somehow through the trembling and constricting chest pain he latches onto her voice. She gently smiles at him when his eyes snap to focus on her. “You throw yourself off buildings and running vehicles but a song does you in, Steve?” 

His face is folded into something akin to pain but she catches the corner of his lip pull up a bit. He can hear her. 

“Okay. Now slowly breathe in through your nose and out of your mouth.” She does it a few times herself until he catches on and matches her for every inhale and exhale. “Good! Like you're smelling the roses and blowing out the birthday candles.”

When he frowns at her she rolls her eyes at him. He's still shaking under her fingertips but now he's completely trained on her. So that's good. “That's dumb.” He snaps at her.

“Well, dumb is apparently working for us.” She snaps back. “What are five things you can see?”

He glances around the room, not pulling back from her hands or making a move to step back from her person. “The ice box, Clint's nerf gun on top of it, the ACDC clock on the wall, a bunch of crumpled tissues on the coffee table-” Steve tilts his head slightly but continues at her stern look. “and an empty box of wine on the counter.”

“Stop looking at me like that,” she scowls up at him. “I had a rough week.” He opens his mouth to say something but she interrupts him. “List four things you can hear. Right now. Go.”

“The air conditioner and cars outside." He closes his eyes and listens to his surroundings. “Your breathing. Mine. It's the same.” Her brows raise slightly but she quickly schools her features when he opens his eyes to look at her again. “Now what?”

“What are three things you can smell?”

He takes a deep breath, already enormous chest expanding, and studies the room for a few moments before turning his eyes back to her. They are darker than the usual electric snapping blue they usually are. The practically swallow her whole.

“Hot chocolate and stale popcorn from the microwave.” Steve steps closer and she has to tilt her head up at an odd angle to keep eye contact. He's completely oblivious of personal boundaries too, it would seem. But it's okay because she secretly wants him all up in her personal boundaries. “Your shampoo.”

“Two things you can touch.” Darcy's throat is slightly contracted and her voice comes out oddly deep and husky. His eyes flick to the corner of the kitchen and then he's slowly walking her backwards. She stumbles across the kitchen floor until he guides her back against the refrigerator. The metal siding of it is cold against her arms where he has them pinned down to her sides. If there weren't goosebumps there before there are now.

“The ice box. And Darcy.” His voice sounds nothing like the stern Captain America or the trolling, goofy Steve Rogers she's familiar with. It's all different and breathless with husky tones and absolutely dripping something dangerous. She has to take in a deep breath to calm her crazy nerves and irregular heartbeat. It's a wonderful mistake that her chest brushes against his for a fleeting moment. He takes it as a go ahead to push his hips into her. Somehow her knees don't buckle and she surprises herself by remaining upright. The next time Steve speaks his lips are brushing against the shell of her ear. It's a hot huff of words and the only thing that's keeping her from reaching up and pulling him into her is that he still has her arms pinned to the fridge. “Next?”

“Tas-”

Before she can finish or manage to take in a breath he claims her with his lips.

The slant of his lips over her own almost floors her until he slinks an arm around her waist, hoisting her up against the hummung kitchen appliance and sliding a thick muscled thigh between her own to keep her up. The second her arms are free she wraps around his neck and shoulders, fingernails digging into anything they can get a hold of. He bites a moan into her lips. When she opens for him the warmth of his tongue slides along hers with enough mastery and skill to steal her breath and leave her dizzy. He nips and sucks and she notes he's way better at this than she is.

“Fuck,” is the hoarse whisper she manages when he pulls away. Her eyes are still closed, completely floating in a blissed out state and not ready to come back. Her heart is hammering in her chest and the frazzled nerves she had before are snapping like electric wires.

“If this is what happens every time you use the grounding method as a coping mechanism… feel free to do it whenever you want.”

“Mmmkay.” Don't expect her to be able to carry a normal conversation after getting mouth fucked by Steve. The second she opens her eyes to look at him he smiles and leans down to gently peck a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Also I'm pretty hungry and I'm thinking we should go out for dinner.”

“Mmmkay.” Darcy can really only nod at this point.

“As a date.”

“Mmm-hmm. As long as we can do more of that. If so, I'm totally down for it.” She smiles lazily up at him. He grins back sincerely before raking his eyes up and down her body.

“But you should change out of your pajamas first.”

“Right.”

**Author's Note:**

> JaqofSpades has ruined me.
> 
> This is my first fic in this universe so lets hope I nail the nonconventional!Steve and Darcy.


End file.
